


ten thirty four am (on a sunday morning)

by truedinosaur



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, POV Second Person, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers-centric, Torture, Unrequited Love, mostly angst, sound sensitivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:11:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truedinosaur/pseuds/truedinosaur
Summary: and you hope that things will get easier.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fiddleogold_againstyoursoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleogold_againstyoursoul/gifts).



> References to depression and suicidal thoughts. Be warned. Also, this fic is written for Ashe, you're a good friend :)
> 
> This story misses out a lot of details (such as Steve training and stuff) because we've read and seen that all before. A lot of this isn't canon, and i've changed the story line so you're not just reading the winter soldier. Also, see if you can catch the Batman Vs Superman reference ;)

 

  
You wake up at ten thirty four am on a Sunday morning. Bucky is there, the 30's chill in the air is there. The sun is there, beaming through the mouldy window, you stare at the green mould, brown in the middle; you don't know how it got there, you think that it was there before you moved in.

There are many traces of life in the room, and you are not one of them. You stare down at your slightly blue, skinny fingers and frown. You don't know why you feel this way, Bucky is here, the sun, the mould, the chill... It's not loneliness because you are not alone. In any way.

You're not alone because you're Steve Rogers, likeable, little, angry Steve. The cold air begins to hurt your throat, so you stop breathing. It feels good until you feel a burning raw feeling and your throat is tightening, you let out a breath, and cough. Bucky beside you stirs and you check the clock and

it is no longer ten thirty four am on a Sunday morning.

* * *

 

"I'm fine, Buck."

"Stop lying." He sounds angry.

"I'm not!" You're livid and tired.

"No you know what? No. Steve?" When you don't look up, he grabs your face and forces you to look into his blue, oceanic, eyes. 

"Your mother just died. You're not well, you're poor, and you were abused as a kid. You're not fucking okay, so don't give me that bullshit." 

 

When end you start to cry and breakdown, he pulls you into a tight hug, and you feel safe.

 

"It's okay, Steve. It's okay to be sad."

 

* * *

 

You don't remember much about your father but you think you don't miss him. You know Sarah didn't. You only remember spitting blood and bruised ribs and fists and

 

* * *

 

You miss Sarah Rogers. A lot

 

This happens often, you'll see a picture or smell a food she used to make and you will relive the day she died all over again. You wish you were better, you sometimes wish you weren't born. You mention this to Bucky and he sympathises, and offers you do something that night. You don't feel up to it, really, but you'd jump off a cliff for him, if he asked. Hell, you'd do anything. He's your pall, your buddy, your wing man. Even though you worked long hours and he worked longer hours, you both made time to see each other before you collapsed into bed near him. Buck's a womaniser, and ain't that the truth. If you had a dollar for every time you've had to walk around Brooklyn at midnight because he had a lady around? Well, you'd be able to pay a lot more visits to a doctor and be cured.

 

"Alright, Stevie. I got just the thing." Bucky's voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you let out a small chuckle, and Buck continues, "Lets go!"

"Right now?"

"Yup."

 

He ends up taking you to a diner around the corner, you don't have to ask how he got the milkshakes because you already know, he flirted with the waitress. Classic. Bucky tells you all about his week and how on Wednesday, Paul almost lost his arm, but Bucky saved him just in time. You roll your eyes because of course he did, Buck's always looking out for the little guys. You start to walk home and Bucky is telling you jokes,

"So the teacher is describing dolphin habits and she says that a single dolphin will have two thousand off spring! You know what the class said?"

"What did they say?"

"Goodness! And what about a married one?" He cracks up whilst saying the last line and it takes you a second but soon you're laughing loudly, and it's not that funny but there are actual tears forming in yours eyes and Bucky has those crinkles at the corner of his eyes and

                                                            you

                               fall

                                             down

                                                       laughing.

 

* * *

 

Soon enough, you both sober up, calm down and get home. It took a while, but you don't think that you've had this much fun in a long time.

 

"Stevie? Please dont say shit like that again. I want you here, I'm glad you were born. Saying stuff like that gets you locked in one of those hospitals and I don't..."

"It's alright, Bucky. It was just a one time thing," it wasn't, "and i'm glad you were born too."

 

You get ready for bed feeling like you've been stabbed in the gut. Bucky sometimes asks how you are but

 

you never bring those feeling up again.

 

* * *

 

You're eighteen when you first realise. The girl is seventeen, beautiful, brunette, with bright blue eyes; at first you kiss slowly, gently, and you manage to convince yourself that you like it. It's not that you don't, her lips are soft and red. But they aren't home. The kiss didn't feel how Bucky described

 

("Magical, lustrous, amazing. Like coming home after a long day at the factory and relaxing. That's how a kiss feels.")

 

Then things started advancing, she showed you her body, and you were fascinated. Yet, not in that way. You wanted to draw it, admire it from afar. The idea of touching it felt wrong to you, and you start panicking because things were supposed to be amazing. You're not a (full) virgin, but this... this seems weird to you. You stop it immediately and the girl asks if she did anything wrong, you tell her no, apologise and leave.

 

When you're walking home you look up to the sky and realise you're homosexual. You're confused, tired and can do nothing but notice the constellations in the midnight sky until you find the North Star.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You think about Mary and Joseph, and the three wise men that followed the Star of Bethlehem, you think about Catholicism and how the sinner is not truly a bad person, unless they act upon the sin. You think about how men were imprisoned and stoned hung killed slaughtered because of this. You think about Sarah Rogers and her kind blue eyes, her wanting a daughter in law, her devotion to her religion, her disappointed look when you joked about marrying, in the future, Bucky. bucky. bucky. BUCKY!

 

You decide to stop thinking.

 

* * *

 

Bucky leaves for the army and the last hug he gives you is a gift, magical, you want to tell him that you love him, because you do, there's no other way to put these feelings. And these feelings, they won't go away. You tried to tell him.

 

( "I love you, Buck."

"I love ya too, kid." )

 

Bucky loves you. You know this, you know that he'd drop a date to be with you, you know he'd come back from the dead for you, he'd live for you. He loves you, but he's not in love with you.

 

There's a big difference and that difference is what strangles your heart and your hold on reality. And you're in love with him

 

truly

 

deeply

 

in

 

love

 

and

 

             your

 

                            heart

 

**hurts**

 

                                                                            whenever

                  you see

                                             those

 

                                                                                                  bright

                                                                                          blue

                                                                                                             beautiful

                                                                                         eyes.

 

                 And

 

                                       yourheadbecomesadarkdeepmessand

 

           you

                      **can't**

 

escape

 

                                                                               because

     he

 

_** doesn't** _

 

**love**

 

 **you**.

 

                                                                                Not now or ever.

 

* * *

 

And yet inside you somewhere, thinks that this is a good thing. Some deep twisted, black plague that has been embedded on you by Christianity, the law, and society, tells you that you should't be like this, you have to follow the rules. Rules aren't meant to be broken, they're meant to be obeyed. Then again, Steve Rogers was never good at listening to others.

 

You answer to no one. You think not even to God.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You get into the army, eventually. You always knew that this was going to happen ( yeah, right. ). The army is tough, the soldiers are mean but, words don't hit as hard as bullets... Or barbed wire crushing you as you crawl through the- SHUT UP.

 

Every night you think of Bucky, every single agonising painful night. You're going to be strong soon, you're told it will hurt but you just wish that Bucky was here. You wish he was here so much. The stars, in all their midnight glory and the moon gravitating the tides and seas towards it mean nothing because, because well

 

he's him. He's James Buchanan Barnes, shining in all his glory. You remember how his face glows in the morning sun, and how his slightly crooked front teeth somehow are more perfect than your entire body, how he's raised you from the dead and how he works days and days and days for you and how rugged his hair looks in the morning when you wake up but he sleepily smiles at you and all of your bad dreams, all of your nightmares... gone. You remember in school how when you show up, looking messy and tired, he looks perfect. Smiling at him like he's the goddamned moon and stars and all the oceans and the meaning of life because he's Bucky fucking Barnes. He deserves it all, he deserves more than you, God, this world can give him. But you? You're a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, the only thing that is stopping you from detonating is the fact that you and Bucky are looking at the same moon each night and it's pathetic and you're lovesick, perverted Steven Grant Rogers. And there's no cure for that.

* * *

 

When you wake up the next morning, you feel different. You've always been sure of yourself, you are never nervous because you're Steve Rogers, you always stand up for the little guy. Guys like you don't get feelings like anxiety yet, here you are; you feel giddy, you feel a hole in your chest because your life is going to be different from now on and you're not sure what you feel about that. Bucky is supposed to be here but he isn't. This isn't how things are meant to be. You know this. you think about what you do with these powers you thought about this multiple times and yet still you don't know what you want to do is beat up everyone that was mean to you. Back them into a corner and make them feel useless, make them feel powerless just like you did all those times. immediately, you push those thoughts away because soon you're going to be an icon of hope, a beacon, a warrior. Steve Rogers and you've found everything you could have ever dreamed of. And yet you still feel so lonely. Lost.

soon enough there's a foreign substance cutting it's way through your veins and you can't get it out. It itches and burns and you feel like a new man but exactly the same and it's everything you could have ever dreamt of and yet.

 

* * *

 

You spend the next few months playing a puppet and you wish things were different because you're not fighting a war you're not a warrior a beacon an icon of hope you're still Steve Rogers but this time in tights. You still miss Bucky but that's nothing new. You don't feel human, you lack the empathy, the happiness

but that's nothing new.

 

* * *

 

"The one-oh-seventh?" You query.

And then suddenly, you're running. You're flying. And then you're shooting. It feels good to punch hydra scum, it feels good to let it out, every shot you take and punch you give, you feel the serum burn inside you a bit more, feeding off of your hunger, your rage.

When you see him for the first time in almost a year, you long for him. Your hand goes up to caress his face and you want to erase the scars on his face because. Seeing him for the first time again feels like when you've had a long day of standing up doing work, and you have to walk home in the rain and the journey home is awful but, you finally get home and take off your damp clothes and have a bath and you feel the warm water calming your muscles down, loosening the knots and aches and you can't help but sigh in relief. Then, after having that, you lay down in your bed in a room which is warm, yet cool at the same time, and in that moment; everything is perfect. Like there isn't a war raging around you, and torture and the dark does not exist. Everything is perfect. Even if it is just for a second before reality hits you like a slap in the face.

The war is there, it's dark, solemn and cold. All you can do is cling to your possessions and wish for the light.

 

* * *

 

You create a team. The most racially diverse group; you don't see it as that big of a deal, men should be treated equally, especially in times of war. They seem grateful, and you don't want to take that away from them. 

 

You on want to hold Bucky close and kiss him and tell him that everything is going to be okay. But you can't. You can't because he doesn't love you, if he found out about this crush, he would never talk to you again. You don't want to get rid of his friendship. 

(Even if that means wanting to die every time he smirks a woman's way.)

* * *

 

There's a train. You remember throwing up at Coney Island, you remember a simpler time. 

 

But then Bucky is screaming, hanging off the edge of the train, but 

 

                                                          you

                                                          catch        

                                                           him. 

 

You always will. Suddenly, there's a rage boiling inside of you. You're at war. Bucky isn't enhanced like you, he could die any time. He could die at any given moment.  Bucky is checking the area, after you've gotten off the train, making sure there's no more hydra; he's walking ahead of you with his rifle. 

 

"Bucky!" You call out, unable to keep this secret any longer. 

"Yeah, Stevie? Wait hang on I think there's a-"

"I'm in love with you." The words bubble out of your chest, and you can't breathe. You feel lighter but heavier, but nothing at all. 

 

Bucky chuckles but then pauses, turning around. There's a crunching in the woods behind him. 

 

"Wait what?"

 

You go to repeat yourself but there's a gun pointed at you and you don't have time to block the shot and you're falling, falling _falling_ down the abyss, with nothing but Bucky's screams and " _wait what?"_ playing on repeat in your mind. 

* * *

You open your eyes and think that you're in hell. 

 

 

You look down and notice needles in your arms, draining your blood and you just _know_ that this is much, much worse. 

* * *

 

This goes on for weeks when, finally, it stops. There's men around you, they look like doctors. You don't understand Russian fluently but you know enough to translate slightly, if you focus. 

 

"???? enough! ???? We can't do this ?????? What if we just amplified the ????? In him? And use him as project???"

 

There's nodding and injections and suddenly you pass out again. 

 

* * *

 

You wake up and see the world in waves; waves of electricity, UV, and sound. The world is new, bright and painful. You can hear men talking from around a mile away. 

 _"Hello, Captain. Welcome to the **future**." _ A man speaks in Russian but you feel the words strangling you, you see the words in front of you face. He's 3.25 metres away but he's screaming screaming screaming

                  s

                         c

                                  r

                                          e

                                                    a

                                                           m

                                                                    i            

                                                                             n

                                                                                        g

 

 at you. The two words echo your brains over and over, bouncing back and fourth until you just let go. 

* * *

The next time you wake up, there's a muzzle over your mouth, held together by knots at the back of your head, and earplugs in your ears. There's goggles, too, and the world doesn't seem as bright. It's painful, that you know, but you can't see the waves as much and your own heartbeat isn't deafening you. It's better so, you suppose you will settle. 

The world is still bright. " _Hello Captain. Welcome to the **future**." _ Still rings throughout your ears, but not at dangerously. You think that, this, you can deal with. You can walk into the future, better, improved  

* * *

_You're wrong._

* * *

 

The future, as it turns out, starts with a lot less food. But this is okay, the sound of your swallowing is deafening; you only have to deal with this, barely, once a fortnight. It gets worse when they start to run their nails across your skin. To any normal person, this would feel ticklish at most. This, to you, is deathly. 

 

You can hear the decaying skin cells as they scratch you, the nails splitting, your blood clotting. You can hear it **all**.

The future has a lot of sounds; echoing in your brain. Your arteries soaring the blood through your body. Your veins pulling it back up. 

The future has a lot of lights, no darkness. When your eyes are open, when you are training, fighting, killing, you can see the light. You can see everything. 

 

        In this world, in this beautiful world, there's only light;

                       

                                                                no room for darkness. 

     All you can do is shut your eyes and

                                       

                                                pray _as hard as you can_  for the dark. 

But God         was

 _never_ good

at

answering 

your

           prayers

* * *

 

The future has a lot, lot less Bucky Barnes. They wipe you so you remember and forget and remember and forget and remember and forget. 

You grew up... Alone. You fought your battles and you enlisted in the army, you met Peggy Carter, you never kissed her, you invaded the enemies base, you jumped over a pit of fire, you screamed, you fell

_Thinking back, you can't remember why._

 

* * *

_"Watch this. We worked on it whilst it was out."_

_"When we say the words, he just passes out but when it says them..."_

 

These words, are the first words that you hear when you are awoken in 1987. They are spoken in Finnish, you don't know whether they know that you can understand them. 

 

" _Asset!"_ You turn and look and them. He leans in close, trying for intimidation.

                                        _"Bucky. Barnes."_

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and

* * *

You wake up in the infirmary. _Thinking back, you can't remember why._

* * *

This happens again, and again, and again. _You can't remember why._ It's not a problem, not at all until Captain America. 

* * *

Captain America rips off your nuzzle and everything is LOUD. The waves are back, the electricity radiates from your skin and you are alive and dying at the same time. You're on the floor screaming until he says

"Stevie? It's me, it's Bucky."

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

Everything turns silent and you gain focus on the world 

 

Suddenly, there's a fierceness in you and you're cold and you're the winter soldier. 

* * *

It takes years, nearly a decade. There's a war in your name, but your memories are coming back. You remember him, everything about him. 

His eyes, the bump on his left ear, the crooked teeth and the night life. You remember your love and now it's legal. You don't say anything. You don't want to hear _wait what_ again. 

That night, Bucky pulls you aside and kisses your lips and you can feel the chemical reaction in his brain being released and you know it's real. You fall asleep, cuddled in his arms

feeling like home.

* * *

You wake up at ten thirty four am on a Sunday morning. Bucky is there, the AC's chill in the air is there. The sun is there, beaming through the freshly cleaned window, you stare at the chip in the window pane. Barely there, but you don't think you put it there, you think it was there before you moved in. 

There are many traces of life in the room, and you are one of them. You stare down at your curved, veiny, muscular fingers and frown. You don't know what this feeling is, Bucky is here, and that's probably why. You smile.

Bucky beside you stirs and you go to check the clock and

"Hey, Stevie?" He sits up to look you in the eye. He's nervous.

"I realised, I never got to say it back, after all these years but." He looks down, "I love you Steve, so goddamned much."

You lean in, put your hands in his hair, caress his head until you are mere millimetres away from his face, "Wait, what?" You look him in the eye, and he realises you are joking, he bursts out into hysterics.

"Okay, okay. Fine, you got your revenge, now. Let's go back to sleep?"

it is no longer ten thirty four am on a Sunday morning

but that's okay.

* * *

 

Ten thirty five never was insurmountable.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you didn't like it or have some concerns, please drop a comment i'd be glad to hear. P.S. Sorry about the time jumps!! I got lazy. 
> 
> For those who don't understand: ten thirty four was supposed to represent that feeling of peace, where life isn't hectic and you can listen to your thoughts, one at a time. Then, the time after that is where, you can't be selfish. Also! Insurmountable means to great to be overcome. In this, I am not saying mental illness is easy to get over, I'm saying that you don't have to dwell on a minute of bad feelings. Because we can't turn back in time, we can't stay in a second forever. Every moment can be overcome. It's all up to you. You are responsible for your own happiness. 
> 
>  
> 
> This story means a lot to me, if i'm honest. The part about falling in love and unrequited love, and depression, that hits home. As well as this, i needed a fic where steve was the centre of attention, where Steve was the sad on, where Steve was the one recovering and doubting himself daily because i love bucky but... theres not enough depressed Steve.
> 
> Follow my twitter @/fionnscoat


End file.
